From Best Friend To Fiancé (Savannah and Roman) novel Chapter 339

Chapter 193; Beautiful, Reckless Trouble

Reese

I’ve met bold girls. Forward girls. Girls who say what they want and don’t waste time circling around it. But nothing–absolutely nothing- comes close to Elizabeth walking into the kitchen, planting herself in front of me with all the audacity of a woman who has never known what it means to be told no, and saying:

“I want to have sex with you because you’re extremely attractive and I think it’ll look good on my list that I fucked Reese Blackwood. Is that reason enough?”

She said it like she was asking for a glass of water. Like she was placing an order. Like she was doing me a favor by telling me ahead of

time.

I just stared at her for a second, cereal halfway to my mouth, trying to decide if I’d misheard her or if she was genuinely that unfiltered.

Turns out she was genuinely that unfiltered.

“Just that?” I asked, lowering the spoon. “So you go around propositioning every attractive guy you see?”

She didn’t blink. She didn’t fidget. She didn’t even pretend to be embarrassed. “If they look half as good as you, yes.” She shrugged. “I don’t see anything wrong with it. Unless you’re a misogynist.”

I laughed under my breath. “Interesting.”

“So?” she pressed.

I arched a brow. “So, Elizabeth…?”

She huffed, impatient. “Are we doing this or not? I’m literally offering myself to you. Isn’t that every guy’s dream?”

There it was–that little edge of frustration. Like I was inconveniencing her by not immediately pinning her to the counter and ripping her panties off. Like she expected me to fall at her feet because she’d lowered herself enough to ask.

“I’m not every other guy, Elizabeth,” I said, pushing away from the table and taking my bowl to the sink. “Besides, there’s a lot more to go over before we get to that point.”

I kept my voice casual, purely to watch how irritated she’d get. I like seeing a pretty woman lose a little composure.

And she did. Right on cue.

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9:26 Tue, Dec 23

Chapter 339

“Like what?” she snapped, sounding almost offended.

“Medical records,” I said simply, forcing myself not to laugh.

Behind me, she sputtered. “Medical records? Isn’t it a little late for that?”

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“No. It’s not.” I rinsed the bowl slowly, letting the water run a beat longer just to tease her. “I’ve been around the block, darling. I admit that freely. Which is why I get checked regularly. Can’t trust these rubbers.”

I set the bowl down and glanced at her over my shoulder. “What about you? Confidence like that doesn’t just come without history.”

I was curious. I won’t deny it. Not because I judge–believe me, I’m the last person on this earth who has any right to judge anyone’s history–but because I like knowing what I’m working with. I want to know how many men she’s going to be comparing me to? I’m sure that’s what this is all about. She’s probably trying to get back at an ex.

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